


18 Weeks of Captain Swan

by ellemo (kanetrain)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-10 13:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6986476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanetrain/pseuds/ellemo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>18 weeks of hiatus, 18 fics about the princess and the pirate. Based on season 5 and predominantly staying in canon.<br/>Week 1: Kisses, Week 2: Hugs, Week 3: Dark Hook, Week 4: Dark Swan, Week 5 Underrated Moments, Week 6: Camelot, Week 7: Emma Swan + 5A, Week 8: Killian Jones + 5A</p><p>Week 11: Emma Swan + 5B</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> I found this hiatus meme on tumblr @captainswansource. And since I don't have a tumblr account and i'm rubbish at gifs, I'm going to try and work it as a writing challenge.

He's lost count of the number of times he has kissed her, but he can recount the detail of every one. His favourite kiss changes depending on his mood. If he's honest, they're all his favourites, even when they were parting as those tearful goodbye kisses gave him hope that somehow, somewhere he would see her again.

The one he used to return to again and again was the one they shared outside Granny's, in the cold night air. They finally had a quiet moment and she had kissed him for the second time. It was warm and tender but full of unspoken passion. Through everything they had experienced, that kiss gave him comfort. There were no monsters, no evil demons. It was two people sitting together, talking about everything and nothing. 

They'd shared many kisses since then. Kisses of joy, kisses of pain, kisses of lust, kisses of hope, kisses of despair. And every time it felt like their first and their last. They'd been pulled asunder so many times. The worlds could not keep them apart. He'd kissed her in a field of flowers, her Light would not be consumed by Darkness. He'd kissed her when he gave her the ring. It was a promise that he would be with her, always. That it would guide her back to him. 

They'd kissed again in the field of flowers, shrouded in darkness. He was drawn to her like a moth to an open flame. Her white skin glowed in the moonlight. There was a reluctance to part from her oh so red lips. He could have taken her there and then, the lust was so strong. Voices in his head told him what had to be done, and revenge was more important than his siren. 

She sealed his death with a kiss. A sacrifice to make up for the pain he had brought upon her. She followed him down to the depths of Hades' realm. She wanted to kiss him but he turned away. He didn't deserve to be saved. Selfish and villainous, he should have gone to the bad place, consumed by fire. 

She had fought for him. She wanted to split her heart for him. She would have stayed if he had asked. But he didn't and she ascended. One last kiss between them. Parting was not sweet sorrow, it was excruciating. Her taste remained on his lips and her touch burnt onto his fingertips. It was cruel to give him such hope and then snatch it away. 

A miracle. Her joy at seeing him resurrected was pure and unadulterated. She planted soft excited kisses on his face and stopped his explanation mid-sentence with a kiss that was full of hunger and love. But their joy was tainted. She clung to him, tighter than ever before as he added his arrow to the several already adorning the coffin.

Six months since their kiss outside Granny's. Six months of crossing realms, defeating the Darkness and defying death. Six months together he had a new memory. Again it was out the front at Granny's. Instead of hiding under the cover of evening, they were in the bright sunshine, holding hands. In the wake of something horrible they had a moment. One quiet moment, one that perhaps wouldn't last, but she took the opportunity to say the words. She'd said them before of course, but there was always something else in the way. Curses, realms, darkness, or death. 

Walking hand in hand, following Jekyll and David into Granny's, she almost sang his name, so he knew something was up. For once it wasn't anything gut wrenching. Three little words. Three little words that she meant with her whole heart. 

He didn't say anything in return, but kissed her with everything he had. Then she was off her feet her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him as close as she could. 

That was the kiss he returned to, with her golden hair shining in the sun and her bright green eyes finally free of tears. The kiss that brought him back to life.


	2. Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 2: Hugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely people who read the first part. 
> 
> I'm a little more organised this week, so have upped the rating of the fic just in case. Since all these fics are going to come from Season 5 and they might get angsty and dark - but hopeully not too dark. I will put warnings in if necessary.

Her heart thumps The blood pulses. Adrenaline races through her veins. The demon whispers. Her hand shakes. Fingers are desperate to squeeze. There is an internal war. She want to do good, but it's so easy to do wrong. The weight is heavy. Pulling her under. She wants to scream. A storm is pulling her in all directions. Dragging and twisting. Loud and intense. Everything hurts. Her head, her chest. She wants to stop fighting. She wants to let it consume her. 

His words cut through the tempest. The fight is becoming easier. Her heart follows his voice. 

She collapses against his shoulder and his arms are around her. This is what she needed. She huddles in closer and he holds her tighter. A lost little girl, scared by the monsters in her head, needing comfort. He doesn't let her go. Her arms snake around his waist, and her fingers grip onto the soft familiar leather. His hand is buried in her hair, stroking gently. 

And It's gone. The noise and fury have been smothered by his comforting embrace. She never wants him to let her go. The demons disappear while she's in her arms. 

She can't mistake his hug for anyone else's. The smell of his jacket permeates her nose. It's a sweet combination of leather and rum that she can almost taste on her tongue. The more she cuddles into him she can feel the hard outline of his flask against her chest. One arm always sits low against her. The leather and buckles of his brace sometimes rubs at her hip, but she never feels the sharp point at the end of the sleek curve of his hook. He's always extra careful to hug her with one arm so the hook can't do her any damage. His nose is buried in her hair, breathing her in. She can feel his warm breath tickle against her neck. Shyly she peeks out from his protection, to make sure the demon has actually gone. For the moment it is. With a soft sigh of relief she burrows back in against his shoulder. Perhaps for a few minutes she can forget about the world.

******

His heart stops. The blood grows cold. Guilt surges like an old friend. Still the demons whisper. His whole body shakes. Fingers are clawing, desperate to crawl away. He was under the delusion that after death the pain would stop. That the fighting would stop and he would be at peace. But he's not to receive that comfort. He doesn't deserve it. The chains are tight, squeezing, squeezing and with each turn of the gear he drops lower. The pain jolts through his whole body, igniting every slash, bruise, wound. He's too tired to scream anymore. Perhaps sweet oblivion waits below, only a few more feet...

Her words cut through the descending veil. A resurgence of hope. His heart follows her voice. 

He looks at her with his good eye. She looks at him with pity and love, reluctant to touch him lest she causes him more pain. But she carefully gathers him into her arms and he nestles in against her shoulder. He furiously grips onto her arm, and she tightens her hold on him. Once again he's the little abandoned boy, hiding in the bowels of the cargo ship and held by his brother when the hard labour is too much for his young fragile frame. 

And it's gone. The agony and hopelessness have been smothered by her comforting embrace. He never wants her to let him go. The pain disappears while he's in her arms. 

He allows himself to be vulnerable with her in a way he's never been with anyone before. She is strong enough for the both of them. The feel of her leather jacket against his face is so familiar. He huddles into the softness of her hair and its beautiful smell of cinnamon and flowers. She doesn't shy away from the ugliness of his bruised face, or the blood that adorns his torn jacket. She gently rocks him and the motion is soothing like a boat on a calm sea. They sit together for some time, holding each other, grateful they are both safe from the ominous green glow of the river of lost souls below them. 

*****

Their broken souls have jagged edges that somehow fit together. They understand each other and their desperate need of comfort isn't asked for, it's given without words. Although their embraces say so much more than words ever could.


	3. Dark Hook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week Three: Dark Hook
> 
> A Dark Hook in a dark forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did have something else written for this weeks, but I decided to go with this. I really enjoyed Dark Hook and wished they utilised him more. Thank you to acerbicmuffic for your reading eyes and grammar skillz.

He is alive.

The oozing residue of the black viscous Darkness seeps back into the vault leaving behind the newly reborn hooded figure. It raises its head. How is he alive? He had died. He had felt the heat from the fatal wound on his neck. He had felt her hot tears on his face. He had felt the pain of his heart stopping. But the pain doesn't stop. The Darkness fills him with the agony of lost love. Every deep seated memory that had torn his heart in two is brought to the surface to increase his torment. He screams, wanting it to end. 

The tumult inside his head is finally silenced and he is born into Darkness. He feels no pain now. He feels nothing. 

He opens his eyes. The Crocodile. No, he does feel something. A deep surge of emotion swells up inside him like a tidal wide. He feels angry. It is a hot rush of wrath like he hasn’t felt in years. Rage settles around him like a long thrown off cloak returning to cling to its master, like an old friend. 

His first instinct is to tear him apart, to use his hook to rip out that black heart. Just an hallucination. Even in death and darkness he cannot be rid of that demon. 

Disorientated, though after a heavy night of drinking. The light is too bright, the noises too loud. Too many thoughts in his head. The demon keeps whispering. He inclines his head to try and block out that voice he has grown to despise so much. But it whispers revenge. The sweet sweet revenge he has craved for hundreds of years. 

Where is he? Where were the Dark Ones born? He doesn't know how far away he is from Camelot so he just starts walking though the woods. Trying to ignore the voice in his head, he concentrates on the air becoming colder against his face, the light growing darker and the nocturnal animals starting to stir. Each step increases the slow bubbling anger, boiling below the surface until he takes his frustrations out on his clothing. The stupid robes were bulky, scratchy and a hindrance. He wouldn't normally be caught dead in such clothing. 

He waves his hand. Red cloud surrounds him and he is back in dark leather. A long jacket as black as night. The demon approves. 

Then a beautiful creature with some resemblance to a woman he loves appears. Wrapped in black crocodile skin, it has pallid complexion, blood red lips and white feathers in her hair, desaturated of all its beautiful golden hue. Their eyes meet. Green verses blue and his rage rears its ugly head. She did this, the demons sing. She made you into this. She threw you back into the Darkness. She unleashed the villain inside. 

But she is still Emma. Beneath the Darkness, his Emma is still in there. The woman he loves and wants to spend the rest of his life with. She wants it too. She wants a future with him. He wants it. He wants it with all his heart. Together than can do it. Together they can vanquish the demons. 

Their kiss is deep and passionate and soon escalates as their lust is unfettered by the Darkness. Their need for each other grows with every kiss and every touch. Shrouded in darkness they sink into each other. 

He doesn't want to part from her and chases her lips as she pulls away. Heady with desire he stumbles away with the pretence of looking for water. His mind is filled with her until an unearthly sound cuts through, hurting, bringing back the pain. The demon returns to taunt him. She's been controlling you. 

With another irritated flick of his hand he disappears, leaving only the cloud of red to dissipate in her presence. He gave no thought to his destination. All he knows is that he needed to be away from her. It was his turn to walk away for once. She doesn't trust him, doesn't believe him capable of controlling his own destiny.  
Broken twigs snap underfoot and he finds himself looking out over a still lake. The moon reflects in the glassy surface, glittering on the small undulations. A small breeze flicks his unruly hair into his eyes. He misses the ocean. He wants to stand on the prow of his ship, wind his hair and watch the horizon. The demon continues to whisper. Revenge. The dark curse. Kill the Crocodile. Snuff out the light. 

The longer he stays looking over the water, slowly the demons fade into the background and his own thoughts come forward. Emma. A small part of him understands why she did it. If he was in her position he probably would have done the same thing. He would have damned her so one more person he loved didn't have to die. It's the selfish act of a Dark One. She is a Dark One. 

Untimely he is ripped from his thoughts, wrenched out of his calming reverie with the words of his summoning echoing in his ears. She has the sword, calling him, controlling him, begging him to listen, insisting she trusts him and believes in him. She offers him the sword. She gives him his power. It's heavy in his hand and his name glints on the decorative blade. This is real. This has really happened. This cold hard steel thing is tying him to life. The Darkness surges as it's reunited with the blade, filling the void, completing him. 

She seems remorseful. She reaches for him, declaring her love. And he loves her. His heart still beats and beats for her. Once more she is in his arms and they're kissing, as though they are the only ones on the earth. Perhaps they could do this. If anyone can defeat the Darkness, Emma can. Even as a Dark One she's beautiful. Her face has the look of marble, sculpted with perfection by a grand master. Flawless. She isn't cold to the touch. 

With a fierce determination she holds his hand and they walk back through the woods. They walk in silence, the demon doesn't reappear. Emma is there to drive it away. She is his light, guiding him back. But his own thoughts turn dark. He wants his revenge. He will feel sated, replete once the Crocodile is dead, then he and Emma can begin their lives together. 

The future is already written. Emma falling to the Darkness wasn't the evil to be concerned about. She is strong. She doesn't let the Darkness control her. It would be the unforeseen Dark One to fear. A pirate villain given the power to do anything he pleases. The Darkness likes him, encourages him. 

There would be no battle between light and dark inside him. Why struggle when one can simply sink and be consumed by the velvety blackness. Beautiful and familiar. She begs and pleads with him under the glow of the bright red heart. It's so pure, so filled with good deeds and so easy to crush in his hand. 

Killian Jones is dead.


	4. Dark Swan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 4: Dark Swan  
> One night in Storybrooke.

The Dark One waits outside Granny's, watching from across the street. It's cold out in the dark. Beneath the glow of the neon sign in the window she can see her family. Her mother, father, brother and son sit together and she longs to be with them, safe within the yellow glow of the diner. The warmth is beckoning to her. She needs to keep her distance. This way no one else will get hurt. No one needs to know what happened. 

The door opens and she catches a glimpse of the man in black sitting at the counter, alone, drinking from his hip flask. She smiles a little, knowing Granny would not be happy that he's not indulging in the establishment's liquor. Typical Killian, taking comfort in his rum. She has no idea where it comes from, but it's a nice spiced mix and it warms all the way down. The dark haired woman sits down beside him and they fall into conversation. He and Belle have a lot in common yet so much to make them enemies. This town has very strange friendships. She isn't jealous of Belle, even though she knows Killian has a penchant for dark-haired beauties. She'd seen him flanked by such women in that Enchanted Forest tavern. 

The soft strains of a familiar tune float out to her on the cold night air and knows that it's Henry who has put the song on the jukebox once she recognises it. The longer she stands there, the more lonely she feels. When she can't watch anymore, she walks away. But she needs to wait. She needs to wait for Killian. Slowly she walks down the empty street to wait in the shadows, out of sight of the diner. 

She sits down on the bench at the bus shelter to wait. No one notices her. No one is even looking for her. All the people she cares about, who care about her are sequestered in the warm diner. The night grows colder and the sounds of the town start to fade away as people retire for the evening. The Darkness is talking to her, but she knows how to control it. It leaves her alone when she convinces it what she is doing is integral to the plan. 

In the distance she hears the door of Granny's open and close, she looks to see who has exited. It's Killian. He's a little unsteady on his feet. One flask of rum wouldn't have caused that, he must have eventually given in to Granny's finest brew. He walks down to the harbour and quietly she follows. She had a feeling he would want to sleep on his ship, but she had to make sure. It's where he feels most at home, even though he still has his room at Granny's. She thinks fondly of the moments in his soft bed within those hideously patterned papered walls. She misses him. She will get him back. Once she has Excalibur, he won't ever need to go back to live there. She wants that dream and the house he chose for them. 

The longer he walks in the cool night air, the more steady his steps become. He's sobering up. It would be easier if he was still drunk. This is their first full night back in Storybrooke. She has to keep up the illusion. She made a promise not to abandon him. He walks up the gangplank, then straight down to the Captain's quarters. He doesn't lie down on his bunk, but instead sits at his desk. Through the ship's windows she can see him brooding; thinking over what passed between them today. 

He almost found out. When she took him to her - their - house, he went straight for the basement door. Could he hear it calling to him? He could hear it when she had it hidden in Camelot. It was painful to see how much it hurt him. It was painful thinking back on what happened. It was best he didn't know. She would put Excalibur back together and fix this mess before he remembered anything about it. 

Idly he unbuckles his brace and slides it off his arm, the metal hook clinks on the table as he lets it fall from his grip. It's strange to see him without it. He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over the back of his chair. She smiles, reminded of their first date. He doesn't undress any further, he never does when things are on his mind. Instead he lays down on his bunk, hand resting against his forehead, wrist stump on his stomach and stares up at the reflections dancing on the overhead beams that are coming in off the water from the lights of the harbour. 

With the flick of her wrist he blacks out. Just as he did in Camelot. She can't have him lying awake all night, otherwise he would know. Quietly she magicks herself into his quarters and looks down at his unconscious form. With her white nailed fingers she strokes his hair. She can't let him find out. This way is better. She needs to protect him, not only from himself. Soon her mistake will be fixed and the Darkness will be gone and they can live their future together in their house with the white picket fence. Her happily ever after. Why is everyone else allowed to have one and she isn't? 

She draws up the chair beside the bunk and sits down. Gently she takes his hand, as though not wanting to wake him and holds it, stroking her fingers over his rings. The one he gave her in Camelot still hangs around her neck, tucked safe under her crocodile skin jacket. She doesn't want to take it off. Sometimes she wishes he didn't give it to her. He told her it was the reason he was still alive. He gave it to her and then he died. A silent tear rolls down her cheek. Tears come too easily these days. With her broken down walls, things hurt too much, she feels them too deeply, even swallowed in the Darkness her heart aches. 

She rests her head against his chest. She will stay will him all night, to watch over him, to make sure nothing else does him any harm. At dawn she will wake him and then she can go about trying to remove Excalibur from the stone. She has a plan and it will work. It may hurt for a little while, but in the end she will have her future. No one is going to take it away from her.


	5. Underrated Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 5: Underrated Moments. 
> 
> Emma and Killian's hook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if this classifies as an underrated moment, but i found this topic rather difficult.  
> Based on a couple bts photos of Emma holding the hook.

When they walk together, Emma is usually on Killian's right so they can hold hands. But occasionally when Killian's hand isn't within reach, Emma will hold onto his hook. She actually likes the feel of the smooth steel in her hand and more often than not she finds herself stroking her fingers along the curve. It's comforting. Because most of the time when she reaches for it, it's to remind her that he is still there beside her. 

Sometimes it is cold to the touch and she jerks her hand away when the metal brushes against her skin. Other times it has been warmed by the sun and she can feel the heat coming off it when Killian uses it to push her hair from her shoulder. Every now and then it's wet, or slimy, or pitted with dirt, or encrusted with salt, but never for long. 

So when Hades shows Emma the disembodied hook, there is an immediate feeling of despair that wells up inside her. It is bloodied and dented with what looks like teeth marks on its once pristine surface. Killian always took care of his hook. She'd catch him polishing it, or filing the tip to a sharp point. And if the steel could be damaged so easily what had happened to its flesh owner?

Hades callously drops it on the ground and disappears. Emma bends to pick it up, to hold it. It is a tangible part of him she can touch. Fear and dread flow through her. What if she can't make it to him in time before even something worse happens to him? If his hook if in this state perhaps she is already too late. She takes a steadying breath to try and to put those thoughts out of her head. 

In the meantime she cleans it and polishes it, making it ready for its return to its owner. She doesn't use magic, instead she finds a cloth and works diligently over the curved steel. When it is gleaming, it gives her sense of hope that even though Killian may be hurting right now, he can be found and healed, just like his hook. Carefully she tucks the newly restored metal away safely in her jacket, close to her. 

Killian is more bloodied and bruised than she expected, but he can still smile which is a good thing. It's rare to see him without his hook and somehow it makes him seem more vulnerable. It throws into sharp relief that he really only has one hand. Without his hook, he doesn't quite know what to do with his arm and cradles the empty brace against his body. Emma helps him to his feet and across the narrow bridge to safety. They take their time back to the boat, as Killian is in no fit state to run or even walk quickly. In the quiet few moments they have alone, Emma takes the hook from her pocket and with a nod from Killian, locks it back into the empty brace at the end of his arm. There's the Hook she knows and loves. He smiles his thanks and gently kisses her temple. It's bad form to tamper with a man's hook. 

As well as holding Killian's hand, Emma keeps a hold of his hook as they stumble along. Although he smiles when he realises she has it in her hand, more than once he has lamented the lack of feeling below his left wrist when her fingers caress and stroke the smooth curved steel. It might be his tired mind or maybe it's Emma's magic, but he can feel it. A light soft touch on that disengaged accessory akin to the last touch on his long lost hand. Then it's gone. A fleeting moment perhaps he imagined, or hoped for. So instead he tightens his grip on her hand, so he can feel that she is right there beside him.


	6. Camelot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week Six: Camelot
> 
> An evening coversation between Emma and Killian.  
> Set at the end of The Price, after Emma saves Robin with her magic.

When Emma came back to check on Robin, she heard Arthur's voice and stopped outside the door to listen.

"And if you were able to save him with your magic, you truly are the Saviour Merlin prophesised," he said to Regina. The ex-Evil Queen looked sheepish as she looked to Emma.

"Thank you," she answered and squeezed Robin's hand for reassurance. Arthur bowed then turned to take his leave. He started to see Emma in the doorway. He inclined his head. "Lady Emma," he greeted and moved past her to go down the stairs. The moment Arthur was out of sight, Killian moved to Emma, concern etched across his handsome features.

"Are you alright?" he murmured softly. Her parents also took a few steps closer, worried for their daughter.

"Yes," Emma smiled, resting a hand on Killian's shoulder. "I'm fine. I just need rest."

David turned on father mode. "I think we all need rest. It's getting rather late."

Surprisingly Regina agreed. "Yes, We can start looking to free Merlin tomorrow." She helped Robin to his feet, who still looked wan and pale from his ordeal. On their way past, he put a hand on Emma's arm. "Thank you," he said quietly and Regina in an overly protective mood gently chivvied him onward.

David and Snow gave Emma a hug on their way out leaving her alone with Killian.

"Are you sure you're alright. That was quite a lot of magic you used," he said, he raised his hook to push back her hair off her shoulder. "And it was quite the kiss." His mouth curled up in a playful smirk. Emma shyly ducked her head.

"Shut up and take me to bed," she said, slipping her arm in his.

"As you wish," he smiled and lead her from the tower room. "You'll feel better for some proper sleep.

They walked down the stairs and towards the room Arthur had given them to share. The Ball had clearly been abandoned and the castle was quiet as they wandered through the endless hallways. The royal standards overhead gently fluttered in the heat haze coming off the flaming wall sconces.

"I can't sleep," Emma said, resting her head on Killian's shoulder.

"It's the adrenaline. If you just try…" Killian started to say but was cut off.

"No, no," Emma interrupted. "I can't sleep. Physically. Dark Ones don't need sleep."

"At least lie down," Killian encouraged. "Dark Ones at least need rest, don't they?"

Arriving at a large oaken door, he pushed it open to reveal a large bed chamber, complete with a plush four-poster bed. The room was decorated with fine artworks and wall hangings, all in luscious warm shades of red. Dark wood panelling lined the lower half of the walls and there was a large decorative fireplace, stoked with kindling ready to be lit in the colder winter months.

Emma removed the flowers from her hair and without undressing any further than taking off her shoes she laid down on the soft mattress. Killian slid out of his long jacket and boots and did the same. He slipped his hooked arm around Emma and held her close.

Even though she knew sleep wouldn't come, Emma closed her eyes and huddled close to her pirate. His vest smelled strongly of new leather and was without the ingrained salt and rum of his usual clothes. Her fingers played one-by-one over the ornate buttons, tracing the intricate patterns. His hand strayed to her hair and stroked the soft golden curls.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" he murmured.

Emma didn't answer. They lay together in silence, listening to the noises, or lack of noises in the castle.

"Tell me how you learned to dance," she said, breaking the silence between them. She was afraid that if they stayed quiet much longer the demon would come back to haunt her mind. She needed a distraction. 

"That was a very long time ago, Swan," Killian replied.

"You never talk about yourself. I want to know what you were like before you were you know, a million years old," Emma said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

He smiled and rolled his eyes. "Experienced, luv."

She grinned and cuddled in closer, running her toes along his leather clad calf. "Please Killian. Just talk to me," she murmured. Placing a kiss on her hair, he put his hand over hers and she immediately laced their fingers together.

"Alright, luv. And like all good stories, it starts with a girl."

Emma couldn't help but chuckle. "Of course it does. When has anything with you not involved a girl?"

"You asked. I'm telling,"

"I'm listening."

Killian gently squeezed Emma's hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. He had a reputation, she knew that, she'd _seen_ it. But she also knew him. Rumours and stories were just that and there was nothing to be jealous of.

"It wasn't long after Liam and I joined the Navy," Killian began. He didn't really want to get into anything much before that. It wasn't a happy childhood, he didn't need to burden Emma with that.

"How old were you?" Emma asked.

Killian thought for a moment. "I’m not sure. We really didn't celebrate birthdays. To be honest all the days, weeks and months sort of merged together."

Emma raised her head and looked him. "But you know _when_ your birthday is, right?"

"Aye," he said simply. It was another piece of his childhood he didn't feel like divulging, not just quite yet anyway. He didn't want to tell Emma that the reason he remembered his birthday was that it was also the day his mother had died. Before they had boarded that ship with the promise of adventures, every year on the morning of this birthday, he and Liam used to visit their mother's grave and lay her favourite flowers.

"If you keep interrupting, I won't ever finish the story," he said to get the conversation back on track. Emma continued to look at him, her heart heavy with his sorrow. She smiled, lightly stroked his face and took up her place again with her head on his shoulder.

"Every year the Queen would throw a Winter Ball. All the important people in the kingdom and in the neighbouring kingdoms were invited. That included the Royal Navy. The Palace was a lot like Midas', but less gold, obviously."

Emma smiled, remembering her first dance with Killian. Her first dance, full stop. It's why she was so keen on tonight's ball. The dancing made her forget her troubles. She could let the music carry her off and everything apart from Killian's warm touch would just fall away, leaving her with the feeling that she was floating on air.

"Clearly, I had no idea how to dance. Waltzing wasn't a very popular past time in the ships. So I just watched the dancing couples. I must have looked bored because a young lady came up to me and asked me to dance."

"Was she pretty?" Emma asked.

"I don't really remember," he answered. Killian didn't think Emma needed to know the girl was so stunningly beautiful that he was sure his jaw hit the ground. Long tresses of dark curls, dark lashes that framed her piercing green eyes, a face that seemed to light up the room when she entered. Her gown looked as though it was wrought of molten silver and it flowed like water when she walked. Although Killian was sure that she glided on air rather than doing such a mundane thing as walking.

 

_"Good evening Mr Midshipman," the girl said with a genteel smile._

_Killian bowed as he had been taught and greeted her genially. "Good evening, milady."_

_"You're not dancing," she stated. Her hair was up in a sweep, held in place by a delicate silver diadem with a bright green gem at its centre to match the brilliance of her eyes. Her ornate corset was fitted tight around her waist accentuating all her feminine charms. She held herself with an assuredness; shoulders back and gloved hands held across her stomach. Her green eyes lit up as she smiled at him._

_He nervously swallowed down the last of his wine,  "I can't dance."_

_"That is a shame. There are many girls here who would love to dance with an officer as pretty as you." For emphasis she nodded towards a gaggle of girls who giggled and blushed when he turned his focus toward them. One hid her face behind a fan, another blew him a kiss. Killian felt his face go bright red. He went to take another sip from him empty goblet to hide his embarrassment._

_"Let's make them jealous," the girl said with a mischievous grin. "Would you like to dance with me?_

_Killian cocked his head on the side. "Shouldn't I be asking you?"_

_She held out her hand towards his. "So, shall we?"_  
  
Killian looked at the proffered hand, unsure of what to do. "As I said, I can't dance." 

_"I shall teach you. Come, Mr Midshipman."_

_Quickly he placed his empty goblet on the nearby table and tentatively took the girl's hand. They walked out to join the other dancing couples._

_"What do I do?" he asked. She gently placed his hand at her waist and held his other in hers. She slipped her left hand up behind his arm to rest on his shoulder. Nervously his fingertips stroked the soft brocaded material of her corset..._

 

"Killian?" Emma's voice cut through his memory. He blinked himself out of his reverie.

"Sorry, luv. I got lost there for a moment," he said with a sheepish smile.

"So she was pretty then," Emma smiled knowingly.

"Maybe just a little. But also long gone," he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. All gone. His family, friends. Everyone he cared about, all gone. Emma squeezed his hand and didn't let it go.

"She was the one who taught you to dance?" she prompted.

"Aye," Killian confirmed. "She was an excellent dancer and she didn't mind my two left feet when I kept standing on her toes."

"She taught you well," Emma said, "You've never stood on my toes."

Killian chuckled softly. "Thank you, luv. You had a pretty good teacher as well."

"I know," she said seriously, but added as nonchalantly as possible, since she was curious to know how Killian's story ended. "You and her? Were you...?"

"No," Killian said. He tightened his hold on Emma and stroked the curved part of his hook gently over her hip. Flicking open one of the buttons on Killian's vest, Emma slipped a hand inside to rest against the warmth of his skin. She listened to the way his low voice resonated in his chest as he spoke. "No, I actually never saw her again after that evening."

"Really?" Emma asked, her voice sounding more excited than she wished it to be.

"Yes. Although I did find out who she was the following day," he smiled. "She was the princess, heiress to the kingdom. I didn't quite understand why so many people were scowling at me while we were dancing. I thought they were jealous, but they were actually affronted. A common sailor dancing with a member of royal household. Quite the scandal."

Emma let out a laugh. It was good to hear it echo throughout their chamber. "And what of a princess and a pirate?"

"Downright indecent," he said with a playful smirk. Their eyes met and their lips met seconds later in a soft tender kiss.

Emma lightly stroked his face and murmured against his lips. "You should get some sleep, Killian. I'll watch over you."

Killian paused and pulled back gently to look at her, studying the concern on her face. "You don't need to watch over me, luv," he said in his low husky voice. She turned to avert her eyes, and he realised what was bothering her.

"You're worried about what happened to Robin," he said.

Emma blinked quickly. "It could have so easily been you."

"That knight was after the Evil Queen, not the Saviour," he countered, but Emma wasn't to be assuaged. She shook her head and found his hand to hold again.

"We all have enemies, especially an ex-pirate," she said softly. "I've already watched you die. I can't do it again." Her voice hitched in her throat. She was so tired, tears were threatening to fall. Fighting against the Darkness, the magic was draining her and all she wanted to do was sleep.

"That wasn't real."

"I know. I know," she sighed. "I have all this power and I can't use it to save the people I love."

Killian sought our her hand and held it tightly. "We'll free Merlin and you'll soon be free of the Darkness." When Emma didn't answer, he asked "You do want to get rid of it, don't you?"

"Of course. It almost drove me to kill Merida. That's not me," she said. "But imagine, if all this power could be used for good."

"How can it be? How can you be sure you'll be able to control it? Can you honestly say if we weren't there, you would have let Merida go?"

Emma didn't know what to say so instead she lay her head back down on Killian's shoulder. They fell into silence again. She looked down at her hand. The Darkness inside her had started to show earlier. She could lie to the man beside her, but she couldn't lie to herself. The rush of power felt amazing, too good in fact. That's why she had tried to kiss Killian's lips off his face. She couldn't let it take a hold. But why didn't True Love's Kiss work? Was it her? Did she not love him? Because she knew he loved her.

Many thoughts ran through her head, thankfully keeping the demon at bay. It was only when she heard Killian's breathing even out she realised she had been lost in her own thoughts for too long and he had fallen asleep. She smiled down at him. He always looked so much younger when he was asleep, his relaxed face no longer burdened with his many worries.

She watched him sleep, lightly stroking his hair while the candles in their room slowly burned down. The castle made no sounds. It was going to be a long night. A long lonely night.

"I won't let anything happen to you," Emma murmured, kissed his cheek and carefully moved off the bed to let him sleep.  She walked over to the fire place and picked up one of longer, thinner branches of kindling. She looked over to Killian as he slept. Sitting down in a fireside chair, Emma carefully started to shape the soft wood into the beginnings of a dreamcatcher. If she couldn't protect him, she could at least save him from bad dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed Killian's backstory from an abanodoned fic I write a while ago. In that his mother died in childbirth and he was a Midshipman before he was promoted to Lieutenant, just to make him seem a little younger. 
> 
> I'll admit this one got away from me, it had direction then it kind of wandered, so it probably feels a bit disjointed.


	7. Emma + 5A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 7: Emma Swan + 5A
> 
> Compaion fic to Week 6: Camelot.  
> An evening stroll with the Dark One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used 'Neil' for the baby for easy distinction between baby and the ex.

String. She needed string for her dreamcatcher. Removing herself from her fireside chair, Emma quietly searched their chamber for something suitable. Apart from the brief thought of unravelling one of the wall tapestries, nothing was to be found. She gave one last look to her sleeping pirate and left the room. In her stockinged feet, she walked back through the empty hallways of Camelot, her footsteps barely making a sound on the decorative flagstone floor. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she had the whole evening to explore.

As she walked the halls, she ran her fingers along the stone walls. Strangely they did not feel as cold as she was expecting. The stone was smooth under her fingertips as though years of people had been doing exactly that same thing she was to slowly wear down the rough surface. She came to a dark wooden door. This was her parents' room. She placed an ear to the wood and listened. Not that she expected to hear anything through the thick oak. But she did. She could make out a few words of a conversation.

"...worried for Emma… Darkness. She was talking … wasn't there."

 "At least she has… understands…  knows that only… is Emma herself."

Emma pressed her whole body against the door as if that would somehow make their conversation louder. If she really wanted to, all it would take was a flick of her hand to amplify it. But no. No Dark Magic. Besides she shouldn't be eavesdropping. String. She reminded herself. That was the reason she was wandering the castle at night, not to listen in on her parents' private conversations.

Stepping away she heard the wail of her baby brother. That would be the end of any further discussion, tonight anyway, Neil would take priority now. It wasn't that she was jealous of her brother, not consciously anyway. Every now and then she couldn't help but think about how different her life would be if she had been allowed to grow up in the Enchanted Forest. For one, she would have had a mother and father to love and cherish her whole life. Snow would have taught her to horse ride and to shoot with a bow and arrow. David would have taught her to sword fight and how to dance. And she wouldn't have had to wait until she was thirty to have her mother dress her for her first ball. Perhaps her brother would only be a couple years younger than her. They could have grown up together. Maybe there would have been more brothers and sisters. She would never have been alone.

The Darkness stirred within her. Thoughts of her lost childhood had been quite a lot stronger since she had taken on the Darkness. _How dare they give Neil everything you missed out on._ Her hands automatically clenched into fists. She took a couple deep steadying breaths and found that calming spot deep down inside her. That deep unconditional love she had for her parents soothed the savage beast that was baying for retribution.

String, she reminded herself. String to stop the nightmares. Emma walked on, the train of her long white dress quietly trailed on the floor behind her. Her thoughts travelled back to the unlived life. She could have worn dresses like this all the time. Her fingers played over the delicate embroidery on the bodice. It was beautiful.  She had been a proper princess tonight. Also relaxed and free. The burden of being The Saviour was taken off her shoulders. Even if it was in name only, it meant she could be just plain old Emma. Emma, who was simply a pretty girl in a long white dress, dancing with the handsome boy she loved. The music they had danced to filled her head and she couldn't help but glide up onto her toes and do a little twirl to feel her the skirts of her dress swishing around her feet.  Smiling to herself, she raised her arms up as to dance with an invisible partner and waltzed down the hall the way Killian had shown her. Without her shoes on her stockinged feet slipped on the patterned stones and she overbalanced with a giggle.  Quickly she place a hand to her mouth, hoping she hadn't woken anyone up with her sudden outburst. It had been a perfect night, right up to the point where the trouble began. It was all par for the course. Trouble seemed to follow her wherever she went. Every time she started to feel relaxed and sure of her place in the world, something or someone would appear to rock the foundations. With a deep sigh, she continued on her evening wander.

Castle life would have suited her, she decided, admiring the impressive architecture with colourful standards fluttering overhead. However, for all she missed out on, one thing she wouldn't change  was Henry. If she had her life in the Enchanted Forest, she would never had met Neal and Henry would never have been born. For ten years she had convinced herself she didn't care for the baby she had given up. Henry came into her life like a bright beacon of hope and there was no way she would trade him for the world. Giving him up was the right thing to do at the time. The Darkness sniffed the air. _He still hasn't forgiven you for abandoning him._ Again Emma's hand clenched.

Henry loved both of his mothers. He was blessed with amazing with the ability to forgive anyone their mistakes. If he could forgive Rumplestiltskin, he would forgive her. A few issues with Regina aside, Henry had had a good life complete with a loving mother to raise him. Emma knew he would have resented her if she had dragged him from town to town, stealing to make ends meet, living in her car. It wasn't right to condemn a child to that kind of life, the life she had lived. Henry understands why she did what she had to do and he still loves her. 

The further she walked the colder her feet became, losing their warmth they had gained from being cuddled up next to Killian. If she had been brought up in the Enchanted Forest, would she still have Killian by her side?  Would she trade what she has with him for the life she had lost? Honestly, the answer would be yes. Thanks to Henry, they had found each other when they were trapped in the storybook, so who's to say they wouldn't meet again? That thought caused Emma to smile. That across time, realms and realities she and Killian would always find each other. Killian was already over two hundred, although as he said his youthful glow hadn't diminished, on top of that what was another 28 years to him? Just a drop in the ocean.  _He doesn't trust you to use you magic. He thinks you can't handle it._ That wasn't true, he did trust her. Admittedly he didn't want her to use it tonight, but he trusted her not to kill Merida. The heart in her hand was warm and up until Killian appeared in front of her crushing it made perfect sense. His presence upset the Darkness. He made her look deep inside for the true Emma and the Darkness didn't like that. Killian is worried. He knows what the Darkness can do.

Emma had walked further than she had realised and was out in the courtyard. Gravel crunched underfoot as she made her way to Merlin's tree. This is why they were here. To free Merlin, to free her from The Darkness. The Darkness tried a different tack.  _Imagine the things you can do with this power. You would be magnificent. You could protect your family, friends, lover._

Yes, protect her family. It was all she ever wanted to do. To keep everyone she loved safe from harm. Reaching out, she pressed her hand against the bark of the tree. There was a kind of buzzing that softly vibrated through her fingertips, that somehow she could feel the life force flowing through the wood. Was that her magic, or Merlin's? It was so hard not to use her magic. It had become second nature to throw up her hands to let the magic flow out of her. For so long she had fought against it, scared of the power within her. Finally when she had learned to control it, she could no longer use it because it was tainited. Her wings had been clipped. She wanted to protect everyone she loved. She couldn't protect them without the magic. She needed it.

She took in a deep breath of the cool fresh air. It rushed into her lungs, filling her with the same sense of euphoria as when she saved Robin. String. She needed to find string. A shiver went down her spine and the gravel once more crunched beneath her stockinged feet as she made her way back to the paved courtyard and took the stairs up to Merlin's tower.

Again she let her fingers run along the smooth stone walls as she ascended the steps. She had been in here earlier today when Regina had used the dagger to contorl her. Accidental or not, it had felt horrible. A momentary flash of being bound and gagged combined with an instant feeling of disdain for the person wielding the dagger. She pushed open the door to Merlin's tower. It was still just as dusty as it had been this afternoon. She looked over the shelves and bookcases, running her fingers over leather-bound tomes and strange looking bottles with exotic ingredients. As she searched, she collected feathers and shells.

There, a bundle of string hanging by the fireplace. Perfect. She took it down and with her collection of totems she made her way back through the cold deserted castle. It was only when she had made it back to the chamber she realised how strange it was not to have any guards on duty, especially in light of what happened this evening. She didn't pass as single person on her night-time wander. Why was the castle so unprotected?

Killian had barely moved from his position on top of the covers. He must be getting cold. Setting down her collection, Emma picked up Killian's long black jacket from the end of the bedpost and draped it over him. His chest gently rose with every deep breath he took and for some reason Emma had the overwhelming urge to cry. Trying to ignore the sudden deep pang of sorrow, she went back to her fireside chair and began to work the string around the wooden hoop.  Keeping her hands busy also kept her mind occupied and before she knew it the sun was coming up. She'd completed two catchers and had hung them by the window.

"Hey beautiful," came the husky low voice of her pirate. He'd woken with the first light of dawn like any good naval man, and quietly watched Emma concentrating on her work. She looked adorable with the tip of her tongue just visible between her lips as she concentrated.

Not expecting to hear Killian's voice, she started in surprised and looked up to smile. "Hey yourself," she said.

"I didn't mean to sleep," he said, throwing her jacket off and getting up to investigate what Emma was up to. He stood by her and rested his hand on her back, gently rubbing.

"Just because I can't doesn't mean you shouldn't," she said, smiling up at him and leaning back into his soothing touch.

"I wanted to keep you company during the night. I can catch up during the day." He nodded down towards Emma's handiwork. "What's that?"

"A dream catcher," she replied, holding it up to let him see it. She had weaved a shell into the still uncompleted web. "It's supposed to catch bad dreams. Neal used to call the one we had 'flypaper for nightmares'. But I've also used one to pull out memories."

Killian raised his eyebrow at this, but didn't say anything. Emma went back to finishing off the web. She didn't want to leave it unfinished. Somehow she thought it would be a bad omen if she did. He watched her until she got to the last knot when he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. Emma held up the finished article, proud of her work.

"Let's see what kind of  banquet Arthur puts on for breakfast." Emma smiled and stood up when Killian offered her his hand. She added the catcher to the two already hanging up in the window and stood back to look at them. The new dawn's sun coming in the window behind made them glow and seem otherworldly, She stood staring at them.

"Come, luv," Killian beckoned, holding out his hand again. Taking her eyes off the catchers, Emma hooked her arm through his and they walked out of the chamber. Breakfast first, then the puzzle of freeing Merlin. The Darkness twitched. _Protect your family, you need to protect them..._


	8. Killian & 5A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Compaion piece to Dark Hook.  
> Hook in Storybrooke (with a little poetic licence)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for week 3 but decided I could used it here instead. It may be a little samey, but hopefully it reads as a continuation.

He is angry.

Belle doesn't know what she is talking about. Emma doesn't want the darkness. Emma isn't that low down excuse of a man, the Crocodile. As the pirate left in a huff that annoying little bell tinkling overhead seemed to exacerbate his anger.

His anger was always so close to the surface these days. Ever since their return from Camelot there has been this underlying rage he couldn't quite understand. Perhaps it was mere frustration that Emma wouldn't talk to him, or anyone about what happened in Camelot. Something wasn't right. Something inside him felt wrong. It was a anger he hadn't felt for a long time, not since before Emma .

It was so tiring, but he couldn't sleep. Not only was he angry, he was worried. Emma was out there. He wasn't worried about what she could do, but the fact she was alone, isolating herself from everyone. He needed to see her, even if she didn't want to see him.

Where to find her?  All he had to do was call her name three times. There was something nagging at the back of his mind that didn't want to call her out. It's the idea of being controlled that he can't abide. Another surge of anger goes through him and he knows that's from a deep seated memory. He brushes it away and purposefully walks down the main street. He doesn't know where he's going until he sees Emma's bright yellow bug.

He rests a hand on the hood. The metal was warm from sitting in the sun. "Don't make me summon you, Swan."

******

 _Bloody siren_. The door closes as he walks away. He yelled at her. He's never done that before, never lost his temper with her so easily.  It was so tempting to stay when she asked. He reaches the bottom of the stairs and looks back. Perhaps he should stay. Perhaps he could go back and apologise, grovel for forgiveness, maybe he could kiss her again and it would work this time. No. He needs to keep walking. There is an inexplicable pull drawing him back. He angles his head, closing his eyes. It is something familiar and he doesn't mean Emma. A familiar sound. Not a pleasant sound. A sound that gave him pain. He needs it. He needs it to be close to him. Is that what is behind that door?

He doesn't know what to do. Drinking sounds like a good idea. Alone or with people. He doesn't want to be alone, on the other hand he doesn't want to be with people. He wants to be with Emma, but that clearly isn't possible. He wants his Emma, not this strange pale creature pretending to be Emma. His mind is full as he starts the long walk back to Granny's. The pull of the temptress slowly ebbs away as he walks back towards town. With each step the torment inside him calms. That low lying anger still remains. Like an animal that wants to be set free.

******

It gets worse. The anger and frustration. He's worried he's going to fall back into old ways. Another meeting with Emma and another argument. He told her a lie. A lie that came too easily to his lips. She didn't deserve the truth, not with her games and dark magic. He needs to know what's behind that door. Now it's becoming an obsession…

He's surprised to see that it's Excalibur hidden behind her locked door and back in its stone. It's beautiful and familiar. He can't keep his eyes off it. Instantly he is drawn to it. Is it singing? The others are talking but he's not concentrating. He wants the sword. He needs the sword. Damn Regina tells him not to touch it, but his hand hovers close enough to know that the hilt belongs in his possession.  A warning text from Henry and they have to go. One last look over his shoulder. Is it crying? It needs him...

******

He hears the relish in his voice with the thought of causing pain to Arthur. Bloodlust is welling up inside him again. There she is again. Pale and glowing in the moonlight. She has the restored Excalibur in her hand, but strangely it does not have the same pull it did when it was sitting in its stone. And again he's angry. Angry at her. Like she's holding him back. Something is inside and needs to be unleased. It comes out in a yell. He tighten his grip on the sword in his hand, wanting to do some damage. She won't answer his questions. She gives him only riddles. He does scream in exasperation when she disappears in a cloud of magic. He needs something, _someone_ , to take his frustration out on. Arthur will do. He must know something. He's the bloody King of Camelot. He must know something. He must.

It doesn't make him feel any better. He needs answers and he needs answers from Emma. He's so desperate he goes to the Crocodile. He hates that man so much. Everything the Crocodile has done to him the hatred is stronger than ever. It's magnified ten-fold knowing it's the Crocodile's fault the Darkness is consuming the woman he loves.

Something pushes him to get up onto the roof. His naval logic tells him it's as good as a Crow's Nest, height is the advantage. In reality it's a desperate act of a desperate man. He needs to call her bluff. She has saved him once tonight, he hopes she'll do it again. He calls for her, screaming her name into the inky blackness of night. It feels like he's falling apart at the seams. But he has no fear as he jumps off the roof into nothingness…

******

The memories flood back and everything makes sense. His name is emblazoned on the sword. All the anger he's been suppressing; the old feelings of his deep seated blood lust returning; falling back into old habits, it wasn't him. It's her fault. The pale creature standing before him. He's been blaming himself for his weakness, but it's Emma's fault. Emma's fault. The demons whisper it's Emma's fault.  He can't be blamed for his actions when she turned him into this and against his pleading wishes. Her fault. She kept this from him, kept him on a leash. He wants her to know exactly how much that hurts.

With the renewed knowledge of the Dark Magic inside him, he tests it out. A simple flick and his clothes are changed. Somehow they seem even darker than his usual. Even his jewels turn black, echoing the state of his soul. That's probably why his skin isn't sparkly, or pale. His soul was always dark. For centuries he had lived for nothing but revenge and hatred, murdering for profit and pleasure. He was a villain and would always be a villain. Emma's eyes are wide and scared. Is she scared of him? Scared of what he'll do? It's not so fun having no memories, is it my love? This is what happens when you give a villain the Darkness.

He has work to do and he can't have her getting in the way. He touches her face. There is a flood of emotions taking him over. He needs to get away from her. She made him the man he is, the man who can finally get his revenge. But she didn't trust him. She wilfully dismissed his pleas and she'll have to deal with the consequences. With one last look at her tear-stained face, he flicks his hand and is gone in a cloud of red smoke. Magic is wonderful. So freeing. Revenge. The Darkness whispers revenge. He needs his revenge.

He appears at the Pawnshop. The situation is just too delicious. There is a wave of satisfaction and joy inside him. He has magic and the Crocodile has not. He has the power and the Crocodile has none. Centuries of being on the brink of getting his revenge  and then having it cruelly snatched away, finally Captain Hook has the upper hand. His hook will drip with the blood of the man who is the cause of all his pain. The Crocodile can bleat all he likes about not being that man anymore, but it's a lie. It always will be a lie. He is a coward and he will always be a coward. He is still the man who killed Milah and who took his hand. He is the man who took his heart and controlled him against his wishes; who revelled in teasing death. He is still the man who tried to capture Emma and steal her magic; and who's Darkness consumes her, giving her the means to turn a once blood thirsty pirate into a Dark One.

He smirks, cleaning his nail with the sharp end of his hook. Killian Jones is the Dark One and by the Gods he is going to have some fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two weeks of the challenge are very visual prompts, so I may either skip them, not post for a couple weeks or write little tiny tiny tiny drabbles. Thanks to all who are reading!


	9. Emma + 5B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 11: Emma Swan + 5B
> 
> A small snippet of Emma after returning from the Underworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might be my last fic in this series. I'm finding it harder and harder to think of anything different to write about, and inevitably when I try and write about either Emma or Killian it ends up being about both since the past season their story was very entwined.

It seemed worse now than it had before she descended to the Underworld. Not only was Killian gone, but Robin was gone too. 

Emma pulled her hair back up into a rough ponytail and slipped into her jacket. It was such a horrible day. The sky was grey, the air was cold and the rain was steady. It was perfect weather for a funeral. Robin didn't deserve this. He was a good man, kind and a wonderful father. A fresh wave of tears streamed from her eyes as she thought of poor little Roland, having lost his mother and now father at such a young age. He was lucky to have the Merry Men to look after him though. At least he wouldn't be alone in the world. 

Walking down the stairs she checked the time. She was going to go to the cemetery before the funeral so she could visit Killian. She hadn't been to his grave since they buried him. There was a flask sitting on the table. It was a spur of the moment purchase. Finding a bottle of rum in one of her kitchens cupboards, she filled it for him. They really should have buried him at sea. Killian would have liked that. Emma couldn't stand the thought of his body sunk at the bottom of the ocean, cold and alone. It brought on a fresh wave of tears, trailing down the seemingly permanent tracks painting her cheeks. She had cried so much the past few weeks looking through a veil of tears seemed normal now. 

When the flask was full, she took a steadying swig from the bottle. It never tasted as good from a bottle as it did from that old battered leather thing Killian always carried around. She sat down at the kitchen table to wait. The spare chair sat empty at the opposite end. Her eyes then wandered to telescope at the window. There were a lot of memories in this house, even though they never got a chance to call it their own. 

In the Underworld the house - _their house_ \- had been filled with toys of the childhood she had lost and the of children she would never have with him. Strangely it had a warm, comforting feeling she had never had here in the house in Storybrooke. This house held nothing but coldness and pain, shrouded in darkness and secrets. 

So many regrets. Emma let her head fall onto her arms, resting on the table. There were so many things she wished she could do over and if it still turned out wrong she would try again and again until she got the ending she wanted. Killian wouldn't magically reappear. Life couldn't be deleted and rewritten like a story. He'd already had that reprieve. Villains didn't get happy endings and neither did Saviours apparently. She felt cursed, that it was only a matter of time before all the happiness in her life would be taken from her and once again she would be alone, without her parents, without her son, without anyone to love her. 

_You'll always be an orphan…_ The words echoed in Emma's head. Suddenly she felt a chill, a cold presence, and the hairs on her arms stood on end. She sat up to face the rest of the room.

"Killian?" she whispered to the empty house. Only the sound of the rain answered her. 

She wouldn't be able to live here. Every creak of the aging wood, every rattle of a wind blown pane, every draught that crept in under the doors would remind Emma of him. Once the town had grieved she would move back to the loft. Being here would just isolate herself more. She couldn't expect Henry to stay with her permanently, not since his other mother needed him just as much. Regina's grief was more raw. Robin's untimely death shook them all. He had been a friend to everyone.

Emma felt Killian's death every minute. She felt the sword piercing his heart and the cry of his pain. She felt that gash reopening his neck and the cold touch of his dead hand. She felt the wounds on his skin made by whips, chains and savage teeth. She felt the hot tears streaming from his eyes mingling with her own. She felt their last touch, fingers clawing, grappling in desperation to remain connected. 

A sudden urge made her get up and look through her bookcase. The books weren't in particular order, but she quickly found the one she wanted. Peter Pan. She thumbed through the pages looking for the line she needed to read. 

_His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy…_ She ran her fingers over the words. Those blue eyes, so sincere and deep, weeping with her, _for_ her. Despair and loss would be the last thing she saw in them. It was true love and she had to let him go. A tear splashed onto the page, distorting the print. 

There was a knock on the door. Emma clasped the book to her chest and looked up to see her mother walking in through the door. She was dressed in black and holding a folded dripping umbrella. 

"Are you ready to go?" Snow asked softly. Emma looked down at the book in her hands. Carefully she closed it and for the last time put it back in its place on the shelf, for she knew she would never read it again. 

 

"Yes," she answered. "I think I am." Giving the book one last glance, she left her house with her mother and flask of rum in hand, ready to say goodbye.


End file.
